Sunday, December 03, 2006

Robin About 8

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My beard stutters rev rev rev revolution into the wandering shapes of day
Day Shapes are all I see…
…except you, robin
Mocking me from the sundial
Where all is shit except expensive turf that must cushion my face

I am aged twenty four to thirty five
And I have not been bad
But this glimpse of rushing light worries my blinkers on the floor
I must seek high ground to dig in…
…dig in and glimpse of experience some more

I am not a bad man, robin red by the pond
I have a hobby, am humble, don’t crave just money
But still I weep on the sunny corners…
…in the corner quiet of shop and the dusk of the city
Filling out forms from anger as lost as those that left me

My negativity is an unravelling knot of diamonds
That used to be waking nights of shift-change sirens
And the Guns of Dreams I own…
…dream on; are impotent and made wrong
And I had to go to the shop, robin, in the last of the sun

And the checkout child who loved Elvis onto his T-shirt
Has more going for him tonight…
…tonight when I touch books to calm me
Away from the Rage monday gave me
As a surprise to shake me and taunt me

There is darkness under the blinds now, desk light in the corner
As I struggle like those small flies climbing the walls till dawn
You’ve gone sleepwise now robin…
…sleepways and warm
While my bare feet lay broken in a draught that remembers the sun

But robin, you still taunt me with your peace…
…I remember now your bright breast macho on the rocks
And I am not into hitting the wall anymore, robin
So I act productively, hopelessly, my pen in the boxes
I am aged twenty four to thirty five robin,
and I have not been bad…
Ford Dagenham

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